


exhibit a

by trashcan



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Exhibitionism, M/M, Minor Sasha Blouse/Connie Springer, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-25
Updated: 2014-02-25
Packaged: 2018-01-13 19:18:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1237945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashcan/pseuds/trashcan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Marco doesn't quite share Jean's enthusiasm for semi-public sex, he does what he can to indulge his kinky boyfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	exhibit a

**Author's Note:**

> written, as always, for the snkkink meme.

Marco sees the way Jean's eyes flit about the room before he slips his hand into his and at first, he thinks he's nervous about showing such a display of affection in a public space. So he squeezes Jean's hand reassuringly, pulls him a bit closer to himself, tries to make him feel safe and loved.  
  
That is, until he catches the glint of something decidedly not embarrassment or fear in Jean's face. There's something like a challenge dancing in Jean's eyes, a smirk playing around his lips as he presses his entire body against Marco's side and swings their joined hands into plain view of Connie's line of vision.  
  
“Wow, PDA alert,” Connie groans and mimes retching. “You know I love you two, but please, we're in a museum here. Try and at least pretend to keep it classy?”  
  
Jean bats his eyelashes at Connie and somehow winds his body even more around Marco's. “You jealous, Springer?”  
  
“Alas, Jean, you're gorgeous but we could never be,” Connie deadpans. “You're too high-maintenance for me.”  
  
“That's why we leave you to Marco,” Sasha chirps, taking Connie's arm in turn yet still failing to come close to the overly intimate manner in which Jean is currently wrapped around Marco.  
  
“Come on guys, I actually do want to see this special exhibition before we get kicked out,” Marco says with a glance to the frowning security guard. He gives an apologetic smile and a little wave as he begins to herd his friends out of the room.  
  
He swears Jean chooses the exact moment the guard looks at them to tiptoe up and plant a startlingly affectionate kiss on his cheek. The guard coughs, Marco blushes furiously, and Jean just grins.  
  
“We're never going to make it to the exhibit, are we,” Sasha comments to Connie, who just sighs.  
  
“Never again are we doing the double date thing.”  
  
-  
  
Sasha's dire prediction doesn't precisely come true, but they only get to look at the paintings for half an hour before Jean is dragging Marco off to the bathroom with him.  
  
“This museum is so big. There's no way I can find my way back alone,” Jean says, obviously for Sasha and Connie's benefit, as he throws a not-so-subtle wink in Marco's direction.  
  
“See, I would normally tell them to get a room at this point, but now I think that would only be enabling them,” Connie mutters, though both Jean and Marco choose to ignore him.  
  
Predictably, Jean pulls Marco into a stall after him. It's a nice museum, so the stall is big enough for the two of them to comfortably stand in.  
  
“Jean, what-” Marco's protests are cut off when Jean drops to his knees and begins working at the buckle of his belt. “Oh, no. No, you can't actually be serious.”  
  
Jean flicks his eyes up, and despite himself Marco feels a jolt of arousal course through his gut. “Come on, Marco,” he whines against Marco's thigh, and the vibrations from his voice affect him more than he'd like to admit. “What did you expect after taking me to look at all those naked statues, when I’ve got my own Greek god right here?”  
  
Marco's not proud that even such a terrible line does nothing for his growing hard-on, but he's not ready to admit defeat just yet. “Damnit, Jean, this is an art museum! This is actually a new level of trashy, even for us.”  
  
Jean doesn't reply, as he's busy mouthing kisses on Marco's crotch through his suddenly too-tight jeans.  
  
“Jesus,” Marco moans. “What if there's some little old lady nearby? What if we traumatize her into a heart attack?”  
  
“Well, she'd be the perv for creeping in the men's bathroom,” Jean pauses to say, corners of his eyes crinkling up in a devilish grin. “And all the old people here are filthy rich sponsors or some shit. You have to admit it'd be fun to get their panties in a twist.”  
  
“I'm going to get banned from this museum,” Marco resigns himself to his fate. What a deviant he's become, he thinks dizzily as he watches Jean unzip his fly and pull his dick out. He manages to get even harder, seeing the sheer lust in Jean's eyes right before he wraps his lips around him, not even bothering to tease.  
  
Marco curses under his breath as his back hits the stall door, jerking his hips into Jean's hot, wet mouth. He just remembers to clap a hand over his mouth. Somehow the threat of discovery only heats his blood.  
  
The corners of Jean's lips curl upward even around his cock, and Marco can't help but rise to the challenge. He fists his free hand in Jean's hair and pushes him further into his crotch.  
  
“You started this, you're going to finish it,” Marco huffs with mock seriousness. He lets just a hint of authority creep into his tone; he knows that kind of thing gets Jean going.  
  
Jean takes him deeper, working wonders with his tongue that have Marco's legs shaking against where they're braced on the stall door. He's so close to coming, he can feel electricity building down to his toes when-  
  
The sound of a doorknob, and someone coming into the bathroom.  
  
Marco _flies_ past Jean and up the seat, squatting so that his feet can't be seen from under the stall. Jean gets to his feet with much more casualness than appropriate to the situation and turns around to face him, looking somewhat dazed.  
  
He opens his mouth to speak, but Marco has his hand over his mouth before he can make a sound.  
  
They listen together in silence as the intruder goes about his business, flushes the toilet, and washes his hands. Marco only manages to breathe again after he hears the sound of the door swinging shut. His boner is long gone by this point, terrified into softness.  
  
  
“I told you this was a terrible idea,” Marco begins, taking his hand away from Jean's mouth, only to stop and stare. “You're hard. What. How are you even. After that?!”  
  
Jean pouts, and has the decency to at least look a little embarrassed. “You have to admit it's kinda hot, though.”  
  
“I don't get it.”  
  
Jean wipes his mouth and shifts uncomfortably. Marco can't help but feel a bit vindicated. “Wait, really? You don't find it at least a little hot, knowing that some rando saw me blow you?”  
  
Marco wrinkles his brow. “No, I really, really don't.” He remembers to climb down from the toilet, and is hit by a sudden realization. “Oh my God. Jean Kirschstein, you are secretly a total exhibitionist. How did I not know this about you?”  
  
Jean shrugs. “It never came up? You're clearly not into it, so I guess it doesn't really matter.”  
  
The rest of the museum double-date consists of Marco hotly denying to Sasha and Connie that any “funny business” went on in the bathroom while Jean just smugly and unhelpfully smiles in silence. But the idea hooks into some corner of Marco's mind, and won't be let go so easily.

-

One of the many, many things that Jean loves about Marco is his willingness to try new things in the bedroom. Sure, he had been pretty vanilla at the start of their relationship, but Jean prides himself in having thrown more than a little kink into the mix. Their friends have a hard time believing it when the topic comes up. (Jean's not sure what it says about his friends that the kinkiness of their sex lives seems to be a pretty frequent subject. He blames Eren by default, as he does with so many things.) Innocent, straight-laced Marco? A kinkster? No way!  
  
Oh, little do they know.  
  
Jean can't even imagine their reaction if they knew about nights like these, when Marco, straight-faced as ever, proposes something so filthy Jean blushes the moment the words leave his mouth.  
  
“So Jean,” Marco says into his ear, his arms wrapped securely around his waist. They've been cuddling on the couch for the better part of an hour, TV long since forgotten as the cuddling veered into groping territory. “I've been thinking about that little stunt you pulled at the museum.”  
  
Jean swallows, suddenly embarrassed. It had seemed a good idea in the heat of the moment, but like a lot of Jean's good ideas, the consequences made him cringe for days afterward. “Yeah, what about it?” he asks casually, twisting around to look at Marco's face.  
  
“You really do get off on showing off like that?” Marco's gaze is intense, not a hint of judgment or mockery in his voice despite the ridiculous wording of the question. Jean can't manage the automatic deflection he had prepared; his voice is stuck in his throat, and Marco takes that as answer enough to continue. “Do you want to try it tonight?”  
  
Jean freezes against Marco, lost for words. “The museum's long closed by now,” he says, stupidly.  
  
“We don't have to go all the way there, silly,” Marco smiles, and there's that edge to it, that lustful aspect that only Jean ever gets to see. “Why don't we,” he snakes his fingers up Jean's shirt, “go upstairs and leave the curtain open while I fuck you senseless against a window.”  
  
Jesus, this has to be a record for fastest boner ever. Jean just whimpers and sags in Marco's arms. Marco rubs lazy circles around Jean's perked nipples as he keeps talking in that improbably calm, infuriatingly sexy voice. “It's only nine o' clock, so the neighbors will be up watching TV. Of course, they might stop watching their soaps when they realize there's a much better show going on across the street. Would you like that, Jean?”  
  
“Uh huh,” Jean manages, already weak with lust. Marco beams brightly at him and practically carries him up the stairs.  
  
“Hold on,” Marco says before opening the door to their bedroom. He puts Jean down and slips a blindfold around his eyes. “Is this okay?” he asks, hands still keeping the dark fabric slack.  
  
“Yeah, it's,” Jean lets out a shaky breath. Fuck, he's the luckiest man on earth. Not only is Marco finally playing out this fantasy he's had for weeks, he's putting his own kinky twist on it. “It's more than okay.”  
  
Marco hums happily and secures the blindfold, tying it snug but not uncomfortable before leading Jean into the room. He guides him over to sit on the edge of the bed.  
  
“Hmm, looks like the neighbors are watching their soap after all. Time to make them change the channel, so to speak.”  
  
In the darkness, Jean feels Marco's large hands on his sides, sliding down to peel away his shirt. He raises his arms, eager to feel Marco against his bare skin. Marco undresses him tortuously slowly, unwrapping him like a present. It's much too long before Jean is finally naked, shivering in the slightly chill air.  
  
“Hmm, looks like the wife's noticed but not the husband. She enjoyed that little strip tease, I think. Gosh, I can see her blush even from here.”  
  
God, he's so hard it hurts. He whines insistently, and Marco softly chuckles as he puts his hands on him. “Come here, babe,” and he grasps both of Jean's wrists in one of his strong hands, leading him over to what Jean assumes is the window.  
  
They stop before they reach it, and Jean is about to voice his confusion when Marco forcefully presses him against the cold glass, just hard enough to hurt in a good way. The breath leaves his lungs in a smooth whoosh, and Jean gasps at the cold against his nipples, already sensitive from the treatment of Marco's mouth and hands. Marco pulls his wrists above his head and pins them against the wall.  
  
“It's only a matter of time before Mr. Neighbor notices what his wife's ogling. I think she likes seeing me be rough with you like this.” Marco says cheerfully, and Jean is so turned on he can't help but grind into the glass a bit. “Be patient, Jean,” Marco mock-chastises, followed by the sound of him undoing his zipper and dropping his pants. Jean squirms in his grasp, wanting nothing more than to be filled with his cock already.  
  
He feels Marco reach around him to grab something, and hears the unscrewing of a lid. “Where did you even get that from?” he asks over the familiar sound of Marco lubing up his fingers.  
  
“I had it on the windowsill. I ah, might have prepared for this.”  
  
Jean's insides do a funny little lurching thing that's halfway between scorching lust and intense love for the man about to shove his fingers up his asshole. God, he's such a lucky bastard.  
  
“Give it to me already,” he moans, thrusting his hips backwards. Marco won't admit it, but Jean knows he loves it when Jean sluts it up with abandon.  
  
Marco doesn't leave him waiting long, for soon enough his fingers are pressing against him. They've done this enough times by now that Marco knows just how to open him up without hurting him. His touch is like coming home, and Jean lets every wanton moan and then some escape his throat when Marco hits his sweet spot, sending fire through Jean's blood with each firm stroke. His palm is so warm against his asscheeks, his long fingers so delicious inside him, that Jean almost thinks he can come just like this, all over the window.  
  
Jean is almost past the point of ready when Marco pulls out his fingers to roll a condom over himself and finally, finally puts his cock in him.  
  
“Ah, Jean, you feel amazing,” Marco sighs, composure slipping away as he fucks Jean into blissful oblivion. “But wait, I don't think they can get a good view like this.” He releases his grip on Jean's wrists and pushes his back forward, so that Jean is on his knees. “Here, put your hands on the window.”  
  
The shift in position lets Marco drive in harder, deeper, and Jean is practically out of his mind with pleasure. He must look such a mess, shivering and flushing all over and probably fucking drooling with his hands still braced on the glass, arms shaking with the effort of keeping them up. The thought makes his blood heat even more, and he's dizzy with how utterly horny it makes him.  
  
“Wow, looks like there's a bit of a crowd gathering out on the street too,” Marco pants between thrusts. “Haha, I wonder if we can get arrested for this?”  
  
“Worth it,” Jean whimpers, letting his head fall between his shoulders, giving over the entirety of his every sensation to Marco filling him up so good, so that everyone can see- oh God it's just so good he can't, he can't last much longer like this.  
  
He feels Marco's hands move up from his hips to pull him upright and press him against the glass again. It feels even colder than it did before against Jean's burning skin, and the contrast alone nearly makes him blow his load right then and there.  
  
“Tell me,” Marco breathes into Jean's ear, “Why did you want this so much? Why do you want everyone to see you like this?”  
  
Jean arches back against him, grinding backwards onto Marco's cock and forwards onto the cool, slick glass. He makes a whimpering sound that sounds like a sentence, but he can't articulate words at the moment. Marco grabs Jean's wrists again, pulling them firmer, higher, pressing them to the top of the windowsill and pinning him flat against the mirror with his own body.  
  
“Say that again?”  
  
Jean helplessly wriggles in his grasp. “I want everyone to know,” he chokes out, too far gone to be embarrassed anymore, “that you – only you – can do this to me, I'm yours I'm yours oh fuck Marco please-”  
  
And then he's coming, all over the glass and his own stomach and Marco follows not long after with a thick moan. Guess that answer did it for him.  
  
Jean lets himself be half-carried to the bed, where Marco loosens the blindfold.  
  
“I have something to confess,” he grins, looking a bit sheepish through the post-orgasmic bliss. “Take a look at the er, _window_.”  
  
Jean lazily lifts his head to look, only to see his own image reflected back, albeit through a jizz-streaked surface. A mirror had been slotted perfectly into the window frame. He just laughs.  
  
“What the hell, Marco,” he flops back onto the bed. “I actually believed that!” There's no heat in his voice though – it was still one of the most amazing fucks they've ever had.  
  
“Hey, if I hadn't put the mirror there the neighbors probably would've called the cops on us. Public indecency or something.” Marco snuggles up to Jean, pulls him close. “And besides, I like having you all to myself.”  
  
“Works for me,” Jean snuggles into Marco's embrace. “You always could find a good compromise.”

 


End file.
